Letters to My Beloved
by amy conner
Summary: Jerry is alive and Holly has left him. She is a missing person. No one knows if she is dead or alive. Its been a while but he is still a wreck, hurting each day, missing her profoundly. Someone else by this time has fallen in love with him and needs to tell him. She cant write a letter directly. Jerry still treasures Holly's letters. So she posts them on a network, anonymously- A
1. Chapter 1

My Dearest,

I wish I were a writer or a poet or a painter. I wish I had enough tools to recreate the floods of emotions I feel at this moment. I wish words could ooze out on their own; colors could create its very spectrum, and express them on my behalf. But they can't. They are our slaves, having offered their services to us. It's up to me now how to make use of the services rendered by them. I had been reading the letters, classic ones, written by great women and men of our time. I was rendered speechless. How eloquent, how devoid of drama, they were. I wish I could write one. Imagine my helplessness my dearest- so much to say, but words fail me. Maybe I failed them.

I can still hear the soft humming tunes of a Sufi singer, playing softly in the background. It's so easy now, to understand why he is your favorite singer and why the song represents who you are. The words he sang, the song he played, took me to the recesses of your mind. It's a dark place, a lonely place. I am probably an intruder there. It's a memory lane where bits and pieces of your life had been guarding it, where an eternal sunshine brightens up the backstreets, but is too bright for trespassers like me. It can be frightfully blinding. But I took my chance, and crossed the barrier, into the unknown, knowing I might not come back. I might not come back the way I was. For better or for worse, I probably would be a changed man.

Dear love, it is now so easy writing a letter, knowing it would be anonymous. The anonymity provided by today's technology has made it easy, impersonal. I don't want you to know it's you I am writing to. You are always on my mind. I can smell you even when you are not around. You have left your fragrance all over my body. I can take a shower, I can spray Chanel No 5, but you will always remain. I try to comb my hair with my hands and I always find few strands of hair. Only it's not reddish brown, its curly dark black. I look into the mirror, and I can see my swollen lips- a reminder of your soft caresses. It's a reminder that you have left a part of yourself with me, your taste mingling with mine.

But you also left behind a teardrop, cascading like a waterfall. And you have also left behind your agony in your trail. You have left your smiles; I can see them when I see my reflection in the mirror. But the hurt and pain that you feel all the time, you have left them behind in my eyes.

I yearn to hold you, I long to pull to close. I don't wish to kiss you or touch you, but hold you like no one had done before. I wish to cradle you, like a mother to her child, but I know I won't be able to. Neither can you. I wish I could take away your pain, release you from the agony. But if I do that I know I will be destroying a part of you. I can't ruin anything that defines you. You have let me in, when you shut the doors to others. You have given access to everything you treasure; you have given me the key. I wish I could hold onto it, as long as you want me to.

Sometimes I feel an intense jealousy, of the way you are. How is it possible for you to love someone, so unconditionally, so profoundly, that it has become a part of your existence? How is it possible for you to love someone, even after being ripped apart? You have spent endless nights, tossing and turning in your bed, lying awake, going over the moments you were happy together. **..** "_There is no greater sorrow than to recall in misery the time when we were happy."-__**Dante**__. _

Sometimes I wish I had been given the ability to forgive and to love someone like you do. How lucky she must have been, the subject of all your letters, the object of your passion. How fortunate she must have been, to have you love her, caress her, idealize her, for years. Now that she is gone, she still remains the inspiration behind the poetry. She will always dwell in your heart. When you take us on a magical journey, your voice guiding us every step of the way, she will remain the force that gives you courage. I wish I were you, I too would have done anything to love someone the way you still do.

Instead of love I felt emptiness. The nothingness used to me, digging a hole into my soul. Sometime I wondered did I really even have a soul. Would you believe me if I told you, you are the reason that has made me believe? You are the one that has made me realize I too have a soul. I am not merely skin and bones but I too have a heart? You have slowly drawn me into your narrative, am so blessed you know. I should have felt like an outside locking in, but you made part of your story. I don't feel like a bystander. If this were an opera or a musical, you have made me feel like the third lead, having a huge role to play. I feel I am a part of your shared past.

Can you ever forgive me? Can you forgive my clumsy attempts to disentangle you from it? It was my vanity I guess, that wanted to claim you as my own. But now I understand my dearest, you are not merely a human being, an object of my affection. You are much more. All your complexities, your anxieties, all your night terrors and obsessions, your valiant attempt to be yourself again, and your eventual defeat to your first love, defines who you are.

The person I want you to be, the person I want to possess, is my imagery. You dwell in the dried leaves of the spring, the ones that canopied the soil. You dwell in the countless evenings, when the parks had been dark. You dwell in my Inbox, my voice mails, where I can still hear your cries. You dwell in hidden box; I had kept away from prying eyes. You dwell in the songs you sang, the poems you wrote a long time back. You dwell in my heart, as my friend, who needed me to hold his hand.

My dearest, please don't panic. I am not abandoning you. I am merely saying am here for you, guarding and protecting everything you have, as long as I can. I wish I were a poet, I wish I could write well. I wish I could write it and post it, and wish the mailman had delivered to your hand. I am too much of a coward my friend, I can't let you see them. The world will read what I have written, but will remain unseen by your eyes.

With love

A


	2. Chapter 2

My Dearest,

_I wish I could use your name. I am dying to use it, but even an the first alphabet wont do. I feel like such a fraud. _

It's hard falling in love. It's harder still to fall out of it. When you fall in love with your best mate, someone you have known all your life, someone you have grown up with, it pretty means you feel so connected to that person, that you are unable to disentangle your own identity from theirs. It's natural, it's obvious and painful and heartbreaking as it is, and it happens a lot, if not to everyone. How does one compete with that my friend? How does one compete with years and years of devotion? How does one even begin to create new memories, when the moments you shared haven't even become memories? They are fresh, they are raw, and they loom large like they are with us right now?

It must have been all consuming, isn't it? The love you two shared -The one that defined who you are, the one that left you grasping for breath? I sometimes wish to spy on your dreams, when you are asleep, or read your letters and diary to know who you really are. Sometimes you still seem like a stranger to me. But then I play the song you sang, you remember which one I am talking about? Don't you? Then I get it completely. I can see who you were, are and ever going to be. It's strange that my nemesis, the person who should be my mortal enemy helped me know you a tad better. I no longer bear any ill feelings toward her anymore.

I have saved her picture safely in a separate folder, knowing it meant so much to you. Sometimes I look at it and feel sorry for her. She must be the unluckiest girl for having and losing something so precious. Sometimes I log in to my account, to read your updates. But I also read your previous notes. I know, I know, its called internet stalking, and I am being obsessive. But it's the only way I know to understand you, and your idiosyncrasies. I know this isn't right. This isn't healthy. I have always been obsessive and no one has achieved a single thing from being fixated on a thing. I am past the point where I can think straight, think about right and wrong. I really don't care. You remind me of Erika (Erica actually, I just like it with a K) from The Reluctant Fundamentalist. I am pretty sure you are unfamiliar with this book or the character. Read it and you will know why I find you two so heartbreakingly similar.

My love, if you are scared that I might abandon you, then you have every reason to. You trusted someone else with all your life and she left you when you needed her the most. You have known me for a year at most, and do you really 'know' me? There isn't a possible way to tell you I don't desert my friends. I never have. I never have loosened my grip on anyone's hands and I don't intend to either. But action speaks louder than words. I am sure she must have said the same things when you two were young. There must be a thousand things that make us so very similar. Darling, please give me time to prove to you, I am a good friend. And I am not going anywhere, anytime soon. Until the day comes when you truly believe it, my word will have to be enough.

With love

A


	3. Chapter 3

Darling,

The last day when you came to my house and I saw you perched on my coach, a mixed sensation gripped me. Did you ever feel an overwhelming sense of longing and loss at the same time? I knew how lucky I was, to have you by my side, sitting quietly. I stared at your face without your noticing; wanting to hold you, tell you everything was going to be okay. But I also knew that it didn't make sense.

None of it made sense. Maybe I was dreaming. It's possible I still am. Maybe I will wake up to find everything gone. I will find the outlines of your profile fade, the smell disappearing in oblivion. One day I might find this all had been an illusion, that you were a figment of my imagination.

You probably are imaginary. In what universe do you even 'like' an abomination like me? Our paths would not have crossed under normal circumstances. You would have lived in your own little world, happily with your beloved, without even knowing someone like me ever existed. Even if we did come across each other, you probably would have been repelled by my appearance, by overtly made up face, my shallow intellectualism, snobbish upbringing and my lack of humility and depth. Sometime fate wanted us to meet and who am I to question her? But I know fate is cruel, capricious and whimsical and one moment I might feel I have it all and the very next it all can be gone.

I am holding onto you my dearest, illusion or not. I am not yet ready to let go. I try to act strong but underneath I feel fragile and vulnerable when I am around you. I am too scared to lose the moments I had with you. And it has nothing to do with your soft kisses and the taste that you left in my mouth. I am being a fool here I admit, but I am not ready to be objective yet.

It's almost 3 o'clock on a midsummer afternoon. I beg for your forgiveness once again. You merely wanted a friend and I forced you to change the dynamics so that I don't lose you. But I knew you were not ready and you are still hurting. Darling tell me how can I make things right? The only way I know is to make you feel safe again, set you free from my trap so that you can learn to fly again. I hope you will come back to me, like a pigeon or a blue jay does. Even if you don't, I will always be here, waiting to be your friend again.

With love

A


	4. Chapter 4

Darling,

_Its midnight and I won't be able to sleep until I finish writing this. _

You gave me something that I am probably going to treasure for the rest of my life, guard it till sands of time takes it toll on it and renders it useless. By then, believe me, everything you had said, every word you uttered would be so deeply imprinted on my mind, it really wouldn't matter. Today I got a peep into that big furry head of yours, tiny peep, but I really got to see the 'real you'. The one who laughs at my stupid jokes and pretends everything is okay is as much real as the one who broke into unstoppable tears after a heated intimate moment. And the one who wrote me this letter probably bridges the gulf between the two. The writer is probably the one who unites both of your personalities.

How well you write, how magnificently honest it is, yet painfully simple. It's almost heartbreakingly simple. I wish I were this uncomplicated like you are. I wish I looked at things the way you did, you still do. You don't merely create magic with your voice darling; you create it with your soul. That's why everything you touch, chords, or words, they get purified immediately. I wish there were more people like you. No I don't, not really. Only once do we get the chance to meet someone like you. I wouldn't want the world to turn upside down. Everybody would turn into an ALICE and that just won't do.

My dear there isn't anything I can do about your pain, and I can't guarantee I won't hurt you. I can't assure you that I will catch you before you fall, that I will wipe off the tears before they appear. In fact I would probably be the reason you are going to be upset and angry, unwilling to talk to anyone. I would probably make you furious with my constant nagging and my over bearing ways. I know am pretty high maintenance. But I can assure you I will try to make you smile more often than I make you cry. I might not catch you before you fall, but I will try to help you heal if you do. I won't promise, people seldom keep their words. Very few actually pull a "Listener".

You asked me whether we will remain this way in the future. Darling I can't foresee the future, but rest assured, I am going to try. Happiness isn't a gift, it isn't a right. I have understood that from my experiences. I have worked hard to find some and am going to keep working on 'Us' so that we can be happy too.

I hope you will write more of these to me. I want something to hold on to when I leave next year.

With love

A

_p.s When I said I didn't want you to see or read these, I probably lied. Why else would I post it online where you can most definitely 'see' them? _


	5. Chapter 5

My Dear,

A mildly chilly afternoon, the sun loomed large at the horizon. There was only one little thing to be done before I headed back home, when I received the call. I wish I had the sense to log it in my journal. Somehow it totally got erased from my subconscious. But destiny must have laughed her head off. She had something else planned for me that was to change my life forever.

I didn't know what lay in wait for the future. I did not see it coming. I didn't know I would find it hard to say no to you, without knowing the reason. I still feel amazed how easily I messed with your hair, and made you utterly uncomfortable. It must have come across as weird, flirtatious even. And I don't do that. I don't know what came over me. Maybe I should have known, maybe I should have foreseen the events that were to unfold in the future.

I wonder why I consented to come with you to the concert. As you know I was never a big fan of the artist. I don't even understand music that well. I am too much of a philistine when it comes to music. Yet when you asked me I wanted to come. I don't know why. It's been almost 8months. I am still unsure of my motives you know. On one hand I never considered you more than a friend. That was a good thing too. You were in no position to make any rational decision and I knew you would end up making a wrong one if you were left to your own devices. Then why did I save the candy wrapper? I am a bit obsessive-compulsive, but was it the only reason to have saved it? Subsequently I have jealously treasured everything you have given me, from chocolate wrappers, to the tissues and spoons and checks from our days out. It's cheesy I know. All the girls do it I guess and it's childish. But then I have never felt like this before, whatever this is.

Is it weird telling you all this? Of course it is. It's difficult acknowledging it on paper. Imagine how hard it must be for me to actually tell you all this? The only satisfaction I will have is from the fact that you are never going to read these. They will be available to you and you will be able to access to it with a click of a mouse, but you will never find them. You will never come across these confessions; you will never know my letters to you even exist. Please forgive me my love, I am being dishonest, I have deceived you. But it's the only way I can express the chaotic thoughts swimming in my head. Darling can you ever forgive me?

With love

A


	6. Chapter 6

Darling,

It's been a while.

I was outside your doorsteps, on a hot humid day, waiting for you to come down. My mind was elsewhere, filled with chaotic thoughts and unknown horrors. It was probably the darkest place, a dangerous one, darker and scarier than the darkest months at the poles. I was not sure if I ought to be there. Why was I even there? Did you really want me there? Wasn't I intruding? It was not my place. It wasn't where I supposed to be. I ought to be somewhere else, cuddled up, hiding.

Then I heard the door opening, and felt your very familiar silhouette beside mine. Your thick dark mane became visible, then the rest of you. An unfamiliar feeling gripped me. Like Sid Hadley before me, I felt a stranger, yet felt at home. The morning had brought its very own blues in its wake. And I had felt them with all I had. I spent countless moments debating what I was doing, with myself, my life, and with you. I had taken the subway, 11 o'clock from my nearest station. I had spent the time contemplating, and none of them had provided me with any comfort. I wasn't sure I ought to see you that day, knowing how you affect me. I could not rid myself of the thoughts of my last three visits, and how afterwards you had a complete meltdown. I couldn't take it. But seeing you in your light blue tee, opening your doors for me, I knew, my world was probably a bit better with you in it than without.

I had tried to walk away, several times so far. But somehow you managed to stop me from leaving. I realize something now. I never really wanted to leave. It's a chaotic world. I knew if I stayed I would be torn apart. But I can't envision a world without you in it. See that's how crazy I have got.

You didn't know how upset I was that day, the kind of devastating mood I was in. I looked tired but what I felt was something more than mere tiredness. I felt dead inside, like I had nothing to go on for. I didn't want to come see you that day. I knew how negativity affects you so. But I couldn't help myself, knowing it was probably a bad idea. But you proved me wrong. Being there with you helped me. You hadn't realized but you did manage to lighten my mood, lift some load off it.

Darling, I know how hard it must be for you, to be cheerful and jolly in my presence. How awfully difficult it must be for you to put up the façade. You smile widely for me each day now knowing if you cry I will break into pieces. I never wanted you to do that. I never wanted you to be less than honest to yourself. Can you ever forgive me for making you do these things? Aren't you deluding yourself that all is well?

But I am thankful. I don't have words to show my gratitude. I needed you to be there for me that day like I had been for you. You delivered without knowing you were doing it. I didn't want to be alone that night. I knew my night terrors would have come back. If you had asked me to spend the night, I probably would have caved in. But that would have been wrong don't you think? I wanted you to hold me close, pull me close and make me feel safe. I wanted to melt in your strong arms. I wanted you to claim me as your own, possess me. But I had no right demand that off you. It's too soon. I am not sure you ever will be ready. My dearest, my darling, doesn't matter how many terms of endearments I use. I won't be able to ease your hurt. You have known me for only a few months. But it doesn't matter whether you have known me for as long as you can remember or met me yesterday at your nearest coffee shop. I know how I feel about you. I am not sure what it is. But it's pretty real for me, even if you don't reciprocate fully. I am happy being the friend you need. For the time being its enough.

With love

A


	7. Chapter 7

Darling,

Is it possible for one person to bring someone's destruction as well as redemption? Is it possible for anyone to be one's sanctuary and perdition?

With love

A


	8. Chapter 8

This story is as dead as Jerry. I shall be deleting this story soon. Those who have read it and followed it, thanks a ton but the plot has lost its meaning.

Sorry Guys.

Amy.


End file.
